


Who Said Romance is Dead?

by Mizuphae



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Drunkenness, Fluff, Jason tries to be Romeo, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Romantic Fluff, Tim Drake-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27429493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizuphae/pseuds/Mizuphae
Summary: Tim is willing to go along with anything for a distraction. Jason is insanely wasted. It’s the meet-cute for the ages.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Comments: 21
Kudos: 263





	Who Said Romance is Dead?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the lovely beta Owls_Teddies_Confetti_Oh_My!
> 
> Please enjoy, my dears!

“Do I know you?” A voice called out, seemingly out of nowhere. 

Tim looked up from his laptop, twisting his neck as he tried to figure out who was talking. He rewrapped his warm cardigan around his torso as he searched from where he sat at a table on his balcony, but he shortly gave up and went back to work on his infuriating essay, guessing it must have been asked to someone else. He was only able to type a single word before he was interrupted.

“Hey, you! Do I know you?”

When Tim looked up again, he saw a man leaning against the railing of the iron-fenced balcony opposing Tim’s. There was a boyish smile spread across his face as he looked bright-eyed at Tim. Tim’s breath caught as his eyes glanced over at that muscular frame and toned biceps and thighs. It’s dark because it was about 9 pm, but the lamps that lit up the college campus’s dorms and pathways worked well enough, as Tim could very easily appreciate this man’s… beauty. Of course, it would be a lot better if he wasn’t yelling at Tim, but you win some, you lose some.

“Do I know you?” He asked once again, or more accurately, shouted at Tim.

Tim, still unsure if this random guy was talking to him, raised an eyebrow and pointed a finger at himself. “Uh, me?” 

“Yes! I got his attention!” He fist-pumped the air, seemingly cheering himself on as Tim bit back a smile at his obvious glee. Rather than being annoyed by the distraction like he usually would be, he’s kind of glad. He’d honestly take any excuse to procrastinate on this essay. 

“Um, no.” Tim set his laptop onto the table and turned his chair so that he could face the man. “I don’t believe I know you.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause you look a lot like my bext, uh, fuck, uh, _next_ boyfriend!”

A hand automatically rose to cover his mouth as Tim stifled a laugh. The guy’s probably drunk. He had that certain tone of a happy drunk that was slightly louder than it should be.

“Hey! Don’t cover your smile! I bet like a million bucks—I’m broke, but like, a million bucks that it’s beautiful. Student loans are a bitch, so I only really got like two bucks to bet with, but yeah! Student loans!” His face scrunched up. “What was I saying?”

Biting back a laugh, Tim watched him confusedly recount what he was saying before he shot up in excitement. “Oh! Yeah! Don’t cover your smile ‘cause it’s real pretty.”

“Aren’t you a sweet talker?” Tim lowered his hand, readjusting his cardigan’s sleeves. “You tell everyone that?”

“Not everyone,” he grumbled petulantly, crossing his arms. “Kori and Roy keep telling me to shut up about you, but I think they should shut up.”

 _Ah_ , Tim realized as he caught sight of the empty vodka bottle nearby the man’s arm. _There’s the culprit._

And then his brain registered what the guy had said. “Wait, what? Shut up? About _me_?”

“Do you know what this shirt is made out of?” He asked, bulldozing over Tim’s question. 

Tim blinked. “What?”

“Boyfriend material!” He called, before laughing wildly at his own joke, hunching over as he was overwhelmed by his own laughter.

Snorting, Tim crossed his arms. “What’s your name, smooth guy?”

“Oh!” He exclaimed, leaning even further against the balcony as if attempting to be closer to Tim. “It’s Gayson! Ah, fuck. Shit, motherfucker, Jason! My name is Jason! Jason Todd! My last name is Todd!”

“Man,” Tim snickered. “You’re _really_ drunk.”

“N-no,” Jason hiccuped. “No, the fuck I’m not. I’m perfectly fine. Just kinda buzzed. I’m like, really, really, really good at handling my liquor. Like, really good. Even if I drank a lot.”

“Alright, if you’re sure, Jason.” Tim stood to stand at the edge of his own balcony railing. Their balconies were around twelve feet apart, so he was able to see some detail on Jason’s face, nodding approvingly at his wonderfully styled hair with a white streak. It looked good on him. “What are you doing at GCU? Besides getting drunk by yourself, of course.”

“Nuh-uh! Not drunk!” He yelled, turning slightly—and almost tripping and face-planting in the process—to point at the glass-screen door behind him that led into the dorm. “And my friends are in there. They’re makin’ out or somethin’!”

“Are they the, uh,” Tim squinted as he tried to remember the names Jason shouted earlier. “Roy and Kori, I think? You mentioned them, already. Also, I think you should try to quiet down a bit.”

“Yeah!” Jason continued to holler. “That’s ‘em! Fuckin’ assholes, both of them, but they’re good friends! Good people! What did you say after that?”

“Er, quiet down a bit? Others in the dorm are probably either trying to get work done or sleeping, so maybe let’s talk at a moderate volume.”

“Like this?” Jason stage-whispered. His voice was still pretty loud, but it was an improvement.

“Yeah,” Tim shrugged. “That’s better. Do you study here, or are you just with your friends?”

“I’m a eblish, uh, edish. Agh, shit,” Jason smacked his head as if killing some brain cells would help him in his endeavors. “My mouth ain’t working. Edlish. Fuck. E-in-glish,” he sounded out slowly and carefully, beaming once he got it right. “Major.”

“Oh?” Tim wouldn’t have pegged him for an English major, but he is a fan of the combination. “I’m actually working on an essay, right now.”

“Essay? Cool! Essays are cool! What on?”

“Romeo and Juliet. Classic, I guess.”

Jason cleared his throat. “If I profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand. To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss—” He spoke slowly and carefully as if even uttering a single word wrong would mean the end of the world.

“Do you have that memorized?” Tim interrupted, staring incredulously at him.

“Yeah! And even more! Do you think I can climb over this balcony and onto yours?”

“Uh, no. Please don’t. You’re going to fall and break your neck. I’m not paying for your funeral. Or the inevitable lawsuit once your friends find out it was me who was talking to you before you died.”

Jason pouted. _Oh god, he pouted._

“I think I could do it,” he slurred. “I’m like 99.9999…” 

He listed several nines before Tim cut in again. “No. Jason. No, you can not.”

But Jason continued, “...999 percent sure that I could probably get onto your balcony.”

Tim nervously laughed. “Please don’t.”

“Fine, fine,” Jason sulked before the alcohol in his veins must have reminded him of something and he lit up, rocking on his feet enthusiastically. “Ooh! I have another one! Did the bun come out…” His face contorted in confusion. “That doesn’t sound right,” he thought aloud as Tim watched in amusement. “Oh, I neam, fuck, mean sun! Did the sun come out, or did you just smile at me?”

Unclipping his bun and smoothing out his hair, Tim huffed out a laugh. “Nice one.”

“Thank yah! You’re really hot! Like, wow! Hot damn! Call da folice and the pireman… Wait, what?” 

Tim finger-combed his hair, yawning faintly as he leaned against the cold metal railing, infinitely glad for the warm knitted cardigan. “Hmm. Any more?’’

“Oh definitely!” Jason paused momentarily, seemingly racking his brain for another pick-up line. “Is your name Goob—Google? Because you have everything I’ve been searching for.”

Tim chuckled, placing his elbows on the railing and folded his hands, leaning towards Jason. “I liked that one.”

“Glad you did, sunshine!”

Tim felt his cheeks heat up as he realized that Jason had given him a nickname. “Do you… do you even know my name?”

“Uhh, no. Can I have it?”

“Mmm, no.”

“No?” Jason looked so confused and incredulous that Tim couldn’t help but laugh.

“Nope,” Tim popped the ‘p’ sound. 

“Buh, why not?”

Tim didn’t really have an answer; he didn’t really think that a drunk person would question why. He tapped his fingertips on the railing as he thought up an idea. 

“How about… Oh! How about I give you my name and my phone number on a piece of paper?” 

Jason’s eyes widened and somehow slightly stumbled, despite standing in the same spot. Tim’s not exactly sure how he did it, but he somehow did. “Are _you_ going to climb over your balcony and give me it? Like Romeo? Are you Romeo? Am I Juliet?”

“No, no, no.” Tim shook his head. “First off, we’re neither because I want a happy ending, not a comedic tragedy. Secondly, I’m a smart person who knows how to not endanger my life stupidly.”

“That sounds—” He was cut off by a hiccup. “That sounds boring though.” 

“Hey!” Tim flipped him off. “It’s not boring. I just live smart and know when not to put my life in danger for a stupid reason. How about I throw the paper at you?”

“Yeah! Let’s do it!” Jason crowed. “Should I get the piece of paper or should you?”

“I should probably do it because I’m the one writing on it. One second, please,” Tim called before turning to his notebook containing the outline of his essay—that he really should be working on but hey, this is a lot more fun—and flipping to the back to tear out an empty page, scribbling down his name and phone number with one of the random gel pens that were scattered on the table.

“Yay,” he cheered softly to himself once he successfully wrote the last digit. He cleared his throat. “How should I get it to you?”

“Uh… baper, shit. Fuck me. Paper airplane.” His words became more slurred by the minute.

Tim shrugged. Sounds legit. He carefully folded the lined paper, matching edges to the creases.

“Okay.” Tim stepped back up to the railing. “Here it comes!”

Tim reared his arm back, readying to throw, in a similar pose he has seen football players use when they’re about to throw a football. He honestly doesn’t know much about throwing footballs, but he has done a lot of statistics on it because he made a lot of money-making bets on it come Superbowl season. He doesn’t really know why this is relevant but he’s doing it anyway.

And the paper airplane flew! Tim and Jason watched in anticipation as it flew about two feet before it shortly plummeted to the ground, not even reaching halfway between the balconies.

Jason burst out in laughter, his arms bracing against his stomach as he wheezed. Tim was faintly concerned he would tip over the railing or fall backward from how unsteadily he was standing, but he was also slightly embarrassed—evidenced by the reddening tips of his ears that Tim could see if he squinted—that the paper airplane didn’t make it into Jason’s hands.

“We should get married!”

“Uh,” Tim tucked a lock of hair behind his ear as he attempted to distract from his bright red cheeks and his disappointment of a throw. “How about let’s try to get my name and number over to you, and then we could talk first dates?”

“Your face is really red! It’s cute! Like a tomato! To-may-to, to-mah-to,” Jason enunciated amusingly slowly. “Which one do you say, sunshine?”

“Tomato, but shush! Let me try again!” 

It took an embarrassing eleven more tries before finally, _finally_ success.

Jason whooped as he carefully—and by carefully, Tim means that he took two full minutes to precisely and delicately open each fold to reveal Tim’s scribbled letters and numbers.

“Ah! Jim! I love you, Jim!”

“What, no!” Tim spluttered. “No! It’s _Tim_! You’re drunk, go home,” he teased.

“I—what?” Jason asked, so genuinely confused that Tim couldn’t help but laugh. “But I _am_ home.”

“No, I was joking—”

“Heya Jaybird.” A redhead appeared behind Jason, walking through the glass screen door as a vibrant pink-haired woman followed behind. Tim noted he was probably also drunk because he was stumbling and talking slightly louder than what was strictly necessary at 9 pm—oh, it’s 10:32 pm, now—on a school night. “Whatcha doin’? Kori and I could hear you yelling through the door.”

“Talking to, uhhh.” Tim watched with amusement as Jason’s face scrunched up adorably as he struggled to remember what Tim’s name was. That poor drunken boy.

Kori must have spotted Tim as she poked at Roy’s cheek before pointing at him. Roy waved with both of his arms, accompanied by a full-body motion, looking like one of those inflated, arm-flailing tube men outside of a car dealership. “Hello!” He shouted, sounding remarkably like an alien announcing their arrival on Earth and saying ‘Hello, Earthling!’ before demanding to be taken to their leader and taking over the world. 

It was hard to see from where he was standing, but Kori seemed to roll her eyes before joining Roy in his waving endeavors, but in a more sophisticated and calm gesture. Tim wondered if she was drunk as well, but she probably just had a higher tolerance.

“Uh, hi.” Tim waved back awkwardly. “Uh, are you Kori and Roy?” He was already pretty sure it was them, but he might as well check.

“Awww,” Kori cooed, pinching Jason’s cheeks who weakly swatted her hands away before giving up. “Did you talk about us, Jaybird?”

“Not that much, you assholes,” Jason grumbled and Tim could faintly see his face redden.

“Aha!” Roy pointed enthusiastically at Tim who defensively put his hands up. “It’s Glasses Guy! You wouldn’t shut up about—”

He was shortly cut off by Jason slapping a hand over his mouth—nearly missing and hitting his eye in the process—and hissing, “Shut the fuck up, dude!”

“Wait, you’ve actually talked about me?” Tim inquired curiously, leaning over the railing precariously.

“Yes, he has—Jason, stop.” Kori held a hand up. “You know you would not dare put a hand over my mouth.”

Jason scowled and crossed his arms petulantly as Kori continued, “Yes, he talked about you quite a bit. You should go on a date sometime.” She winked and Tim flushed, beginning to look a bit similar to Jason.

“Jaybird,” Roy nodded to the crumpled paper in Jason’s hands, nearly tripping over his own feet as he did so. “Whatcha got there?”

“A smoothie,” Jason automatically replied before blinking and looking down at his hands. “Oh uh, Tim’s—hey!” The paper was stolen out of his hands and into Roy’s.

“Ooh! Already on a phone-number basis! Are ya going to finally go on a date?”

“No!” Jason shouted before he seemed to register what Roy had asked. “Uh, if you want to,” he slurred as he turned his head to Tim. “Wanna go on a date?”

Tim’s eyes widened before he flashed a smile, “Sure, but once you're sober.”

Jason pouted. “Not now?”

“Call me once you wake up in the morning. You have my number.”

“How did you get that paper,” Roy wondered aloud. 

Kori made grabby motions with her hands and he passed the note to her. “Yeah.” She gestured at the distance between Jason and Tim, suspiciously eyeing the large gap between their respective balconies. “How did you?”

Tim rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I made it into an airplane and threw it.”

Jason threw his head back and laughed uproariously—unnecessarily loud and much if you asked Tim. “It took like fifty tries,” he wheezed leaning on Roy for support who stumbled backward, struggling to hold him up. Kori only laughed as they fell onto the balcony floor.

“It did not take fifty tries,” Tim squawked as Kori walked to the edge of the railing to peer at his many failed attempts.

“There is a lot of paper on the floor,” she giggled as Roy stumbled to her and leaned heavily against her back. Jason remained on the floor as he dramatically bemoaned how quickly Roy had left him. “Why did you not simply tell Jason your phone number? Aloud, I mean? I believe that would have worked better and far more efficiently, without wasting so much paper.”

Tim blinked. That would’ve been easier but… he liked the chaos of this. “Um, fun, I guess.” He shrugged, playing with his hair clip.

Jason only continued to laugh as he clutched at the railing to pull himself up to his feet, probably unable to contain himself thanks to the alcohol. _How much did he drink…_

“Aww, Jay,” Roy pulled a face as he tipped the empty vodka bottle upside down. “You finished it? I only got, like, two shots out of it.”

“Holy shit. You drank all of that, Jason?”

“Nooooooo,” Jason whined. “Not all… Roy and Rori—fuck, I mean, Kori got some…”

Kori snorted. “I did not drink much, you absolute dumbass. It would have been foolish to not have someone to keep both of you from doing something ridiculous.” Without turning to look at Roy, she declared, “if you smash that vodka bottle while yelling ‘this bitch empty, yeet’, _again_ , we are going to have problems, Roy Harper.” 

Tim bit back a chuckle as Roy reluctantly placed the bottle on the ground. “But it was fun last time…”

“Was it fun cleaning up the shards of glass and slicing your palm open on one of them?”

“No…” 

Tim grinned as he looked down at his wrist before his jaw dropped. “Shit! It’s 11:28!” He scrambled to collect his belongings from the table beside him, cursing all sorts of obscenities that would receive quite the scolding and mouth-washing from one of his former nannies. 

Jason cocked his head, “What’s wrong, baby?”

“My essay is due at midnight! Fuck me…” Tim groaned, kicking the door open.

“Later!” Jason shouted as Kori whispered something into Roy’s ear that made him burst into laughter.

Without thinking, Tim replied, “If you’re lucky and remember to call me in the morning, hot-shot!”

Face burning with embarrassment that he _actually said that_ , he turned and raced out of the balcony and into the living room entrance before he smashed in a bulky body with an oof.

“Kon! Get out of the way! I need to finish my essay within the next thirty minutes!” Tim flopped himself onto their couch in despair.

“Dude.” Kon held up a pile of folded paper airplanes in his arms. “Why the fuck was there eighteen paper airplanes with your name and number on them in the driveway?” 

Bart appeared behind him with one of the papers, hands playing with it and presumably turning it into some kind of origami. He does that a lot. “Yeah, what happened to your whole ‘privacy is important’ speech, and ‘releasing contact information is part of a government conspiracy’?”

Tim squinted, trying to figure out how to word exactly what happened to him in the last couple of hours. “Uh…” He shrugged. “I met a guy.”

“A guy?” Bart crowed as he clambered onto the couch alongside Tim, tossing his half-completed paper creation onto the coffee table. “What happened? I thought you were working on your essay.”

“I got busy.”

“Busy?” Kon wiggled his eyebrows before Tim slapped his arm, still red-faced.

“Shut up, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Do we, though?” Bart teased. 

“Argh!” Tim threw his notebook at Bart. “Shush, child. Read off the second page for me while I type. Kon, can you make me some coffee?”

“I dunno,” Kon began with a shit-eating grin. “ _Can I?_ ” 

“I will kick your ass, Kent.”

“You’re too short—Hey!” Kon deflected a water bottle from hitting him. “Abuse!” He jokingly cried out as he got pelted with a balled-up sock. “Do your work, Tim!”

“Fuck! It’s 11:45, now! My Composition professor is going to _murder_ me!”

“R.I.P. in pepperonis,” Bart shook his head solemnly. “You’re doomed.”

“He knows,” Kon called from the kitchen where he was standing at the coffee pot.

“I know,” Tim moaned as he typed frantically.

“Anyways,” Bart played with Tim’s notebook, tucking himself into Tim’s side as he read what Tim was writing. “Was the guy hot, though?”

“Bart!”

"Priorities, Tim! Priorities!"

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, friends! Please drink responsibly and have a wonderful day/night!


End file.
